


Shut Up and Dance

by disdainfreely



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Dratchet Wedding, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, no drunk sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 13:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18194930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disdainfreely/pseuds/disdainfreely
Summary: It's Drift and Ratchet's wedding, all the Wreckers are in attendance, and First Aid has had a little too much to drink.He's also way too much into Springer.





	Shut Up and Dance

It’s a beautiful wedding. It’s gorgeous. Ratchet has never looked so happy in all the time First Aid has known him. He’s seen Ratchet relaxed, seen him laughing and drinking and joking, but he’s never seen Ratchet glow like this. It’s beautiful. Drift is beaming too, and both of them are polished and specially painted for the occasion. Ratchet even consented to being painted with Spectralist designs for Drift. Rodimus officiates and somehow manages to be both serious and Rodimus all at once, and when Drift and Ratchet finally kiss everyone bursts into applause.

Finally! It took them long enough to admit it! First Aid can’t help but laugh at the roar of applause and whistling from where the Wreckers are all sitting together, having all turned up for Drift. Perceptor and Brainstorm are sitting with them as well, and First Aid isn’t sure he’s ever seen Perceptor cheer so loudly either. 

It’s all just unequivocally good. And after the ceremony, after the cheering, comes the party. First Aid finds himself leaning up against the wall with Ambulon and watching the rest of the Lost Light crew and the Wreckers get steadily drunker. 

“It’s good to see everyone actually looked relaxed for once. Even Ratchet.” First Aid nods over at Ratchet, who’s giggling at something that Drift is whispering to him. Ratchet. Giggling.

“So when are you going to relax?” Ambulon asks in his usual acerbic tone, but he’s smiling. 

“I am relaxed. What are you talking about?” First Aid looks over at his friend.

“You’re tapping your foot and you keep giving someone on the dance floor weird looks.”

“I am not!” First Aid protests. It’s not his fault that all the Wreckers are here and First Aid is finally getting to see them all in person. Even Springer is here, and he’s practically gleaming he’s so brightly polished for the occasion. 

“You are. So which Wrecker is it?”

First Aid looks over at Ambulon in horror only to see that Ambulon is actually grinning. Full on grinning. First Aid has to look away in embarrassment even with his mask. How can Ambulon always tell? A gentle elbow to his side distracts him.

“So? Who are you looking at?” 

“You can’t make fun of me if I tell you,” First Aid says, risking a glance back at Ambulon.

“You know I can keep a secret. I didn’t just go and tell Ratchet to frag Drift right off.”

First Aid squeaks in mortification at the very thought of saying that to Ratchet. “That’s because Ratchet is scary! You’re not scared of me like you are of him.”

“That’s because you’re a nerd, ‘Aid. But come on, which Wrecker is it? It has to be one of them; I’ve found too many issues of Wreckers Declassified around your desk for it not to be.” Ambulon looks over at him. “So?” 

First Aid glances around even though he knows no one is paying attention to them. “Okay. It’s Springer. I’ve been watching Springer.” 

Ambulon laughs, the traitor.

“Springer? I should have guess. So go talk to him.”

“I can’t just walk up to him, Ambulon! It’s Springer!” First Aid replies. “I mean...just look at him!”

“I see him. He looks like he’s in a good mood. Now’s your time,” Ambulon says unhelpfully. First Aid makes a noise like he’s dying.

“What would I even talk to him about?”

“Drift and Ratchet. Since it’s literally their wedding. That might be an easy place to start,” Ambulon suggests. First Aid considers it for a moment.

“I can’t. I can’t do it. I’m going to say something strange.” 

“Of course you are. You always do. But who knows, maybe Wreckers like strange,” Ambulon says. “It’s not like they’re all normal themselves.”

“Thanks, but that’s not really helpful.” First Aid sighs in Springer’s direction again. Ambulon elbows him.

“Come on. You’re not spending. Ratchet’s entire wedding moping. Let’s go get a drink.”

First Aid considers commenting on the irony of Ambulon of all mechs telling him to stop moping, but honestly he’s right. It’s a party and really, First Aid is happy for Ratchet and Drift. They deserve to be happy after the insanity of the Lost Light’s voyage. 

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

First Aid follows Ambulon over to the bar. Swerve has generously offered to work tonight free of charge as his gift. It almost makes First Aid wonder if his and Ambulon’s joint gift of a scrapbook of medidrone photos of Drift and Ratchet in the medbay should have been larger. Ambulon goes up to order something from Swerve, while First Aid instead heads over to the large bowl of punch that’s been set up. Based on their loud cheering when it was brought out, punch is apparently some kind of Wreckers thing.

The first sip of the punch nearly knocks First Aid of his feet. Primus, that’s strong. He takes another sip. Then another. By the time Ambulon returns from the bar, First Aid is into his second cube and his eyes are locked firmly on Springer. He’s laughing at something Kup is saying. He’s gorgeous.

“You look more relaxed,” Ambulon says, sipping from his own drink. “But you’re still staring at Springer. Are you actually going to talk to him?”

“No, I don’t need to talk to him. I can just relax and have a drink and celebrate that Ratchet and Drift are married!” First Aid sips his drink. It’s really warm in here. Probably from everyone dancing. He finishes his cube and grabs another.

Ambulon gives him a look. “You’re going to need a lot more drinks before you’re going to be relaxed.”

First Aid laughs. “Yeah, okay. You’re probably right about that.” He holds up his drink and Ambulon chuckles and clinks their cubes together.

“Then let’s get you more drinks.”

Ambulon leans up against the wall beside First Aid, and he’s actually smiling. Not even in the sarcastic way he usually does. He’s just actually smiling. First Aid follows his gaze. He’s watching Ratchet and Drift, who are giggling about something to each other, practically cheek to cheek.

“It’s good to see him happy like that,” Ambulon says.

“It is. I don’t think he’s talked about work for the last three days.” First Aid laughs.

“If Drift has any idea what he’s doing, Ratchet shouldn’t be talking about work for the next three days either.” Ambulon’s sarcastic smile is back. First Aid snorts into his drink and giggles.

“Ambulon!”

“I’m just saying. Must be nice to have someone like that.” Ambulon shrugs and takes a long drink. “Right. That’s enough of that. We’re drinking more.”

“Sounds good!” First Aid laughs. 

The two of them get through another couple rounds. Ambulon is actually laughing, watching Brainstorm attempt to talk to Wreckers and clearly trying to be impressive for Perceptor’s sake. It’s Brainstorm, so of course it’s a mess to watch. First Aid finds himself giggling and trying to contain it. His first impression of that punch was right. A couple of cubes would have been more than enough for him on a regular night, but tonight...he finds himself leaning on Ambulon and trying to muffle his laughter with a hand over his mask.

This was more or less how he expected the evening to go, just him and Ambulon sitting together and drinking. It’s not that First Aid doesn’t like other mechs, or that Ambulon doesn’t (he doesn’t). It’s just that being a medic on the Lost Light doesn’t leave a mech with a whole ton of free time, which means that the mechs who he knows best are Ratchet, Ambulon and Velocity, who’s off drinking with Nautica. It’s not bad anyway; First Aid has always been relatively introverted.

He finishes his drink (how many was that again?) and fetches another. Then he fetches more, until standing is very hard and Ambulon’s arm is around his waist to keep him upright as he laughs.

“You’re so drunk!” Ambulon laughs, helping First Aid straighten up. “What have you been drinking?”

“Punch! I’ve only had...yeah, I don’t know.” First Aid grabs hold of Ambulon’s arms for balance. Ambulon shakes his head.

“Yeah, sure.”

First Aid is going to further protest his innocence, but he’s distracted by a large, booming laugh. It’s Springer, of course. Primus, he’s huge, and gorgeous, and First Aid is completely enthralled.

“Come on, ‘Aid. Let’s get some nice, normal fuel into you. Or you could engage your FIM chip.” Ambulon gently shakes him. “What do you think?”

“Yeah, okay. Just one second.” First Aid releases his grip on Ambulon’s arms and very determinedly forces his feet to walk forward, across the bar. 

Springer looks bigger and bigger the closer he gets and First Aid has a sudden flash back to meeting Springer on Kimia and being given his assignment. He’d almost forgotten how huge Springer is.

“Hi.” First Aid stops right in front of Springer and looks up at the massive mech, who looks down at him in polite bemusement. 

“Hi,” Springer says, and First Aid has to contain a giggle of excitement. “I don’t think we’ve met. You must be a friend of Ratchet’s.”

“We’ve met! On Kimia!” First Aid blurts out. He sees Springer focus for a moment, clearly thinking, before recognition flicks across his face. 

“Oh! I remember now. You were one of the medics looking for messages in Autobot sigils. I’m sorry, I don’t know remember your name.”

First Aid pats Springer’s chest reassuringly. “’S okay. My name is First Aid.” He wavers a little on his feet and Springer gently catches his shoulders in those massive, strong, impossibly careful hands. 

“Oh, careful! I think you might have had a little too much to drink.” Springer laughs and First Aid’s entire spark feels warm. “I’m going to guess the other medic over there is a friend of yours. Maybe I should take you back over to him.” First Aid looks over his shoulder at Ambulon, who’s now talking to...Impactor? Or at least, Impactor is talking to Ambulon and Ambulon isn’t trying to escape. It looks like he’s even leaning in closer. 

“No! It’s...I...” First Aid fumbles for something to say, something that won’t result in Springer bringing him back over to Ambulon and leaving. A fast song starts playing and First Aid looks up at Springer. “Shut up and dance with me!” He grabs Springer’s hand and tugs him toward the dance floor, putting a fair amount of his forged-medic strength into the pull.

Springer laughs and follows him. “Yeah, okay. Lead the way.” 

Exhilarated, First Aid drags Springer fully onto the dance floor and ends up more or less immediately pressed up to that wonderfully broad chassis. He’s dancing with Springer. He, First Aid, is dancing with Springer and Springer is smiling and laughing and this is amazing. One song blends into the next, but it eventually shifts to a slow song, something soft and gentle and very pretty. First Aid doesn’t know much about music, especially when he’s this drunk, but it’s nice. 

It’s even nicer when he finds himself slow-dancing with Springer, one massive hand holding First Aid’s, and the other resting on First Aid’s waist. First Aid looks up into those Matrix-blue optics and has to fight the urge to hide his face even though he’s still wearing his mask. Oh. This is...so good. First Aid leans in to let his head rest against Springer’s chest, his free hand pressed beside it with all his medical sensors working to feel Springer and his systems and his vibrant spark.

“It really is seven Matrixes wide,” First Aid mumbles, and feels his entire frame rumble with Springer’s chuckle.

“Okay, First Aid. You’re definitely drunk. What have you been drinking?”

“I had punch,” First Aid says, and Springer laughs again.

“Oh no. You drank punch at a Wrecker party. No wonder you’re plastered. Okay, let’s get you to bed.” First Aid wants to protest, but suddenly his world is tilting and everything is sideways. “Oof. I always forget how heavy you Forged medics are.” 

First Aid mumbles an apology, or at least he tries to. Springer chuckles again. Suddenly everything is moving and First Aid eeps and clutches at Springer, though he can feel the Wrecker’s grip is steady and firm enough that he’s obviously not going to be dropped. This position puts him right up against Springer’s chest with basically his whole body because Springer is about as wide as First Aid is tall.

“So wide...”

Springer laughs again and First Aid snuggles himself in closer. Springer’s shoulder is a comfortable pillow.

“Oh, First Aid!”

First Aid turns his head to see Ambulon’s face, and it’s weird, he doesn’t have to look up to look Ambulon in the eye.

“Hey Ambulon. How’d I get tall?”

“Springer, how’d your medic get so drunk?” First Aid turns his bleary stare from Ambulon to a very amused Impactor.

“He got into the punch.” Springer hefts First Aid up higher into his arms and First Aid can’t fully contain a shrieking laugh.

“Ah.” Impactor laughs and First Aid would be offended if he wasn’t so comfortable in Springer’s arms.

“Here, I’ll take him home. Don’t worry about it.” First Aid squeaks in surprise as Ambulon slides his hands under First Aid to take him from Springer, but somehow he’s still in Springer’s arms. 

“He’s going to be too heavy for you. He’s denser than he looks.” Springer laughs and First Aid sleepily clings to him.

“That’s what happens when you’re a Forged medic and part of a combiner,” Ambulon says.

“A combiner? Damn, little medic.” Springer smiles down at First Aid and it’s a very nice smile. “Okay, let’s get you to bed.”

“I can walk,” First Aid mumbles.

“No, you can’t. Here, Springer, are you sure you’ve got him?” Ambulon asks.

“Yeah, I can take him home if you give me his room and room code. I’ll let you two keep talking.” Springer laughs. It’s so nice of him to let Ambulon keep talking to Impactor. First Aid pats him on the chest to thank him.

“It’s down by the medbay. Thank you for taking him.” Ambulon does sound grateful, and First Aid feels like he should be expressing gratitude too. He pats Springer’s chest again.

“Okay, let’s get you to bed. Come on, little medic.”

First Aid giggles. “’M not little, you’re just big.”

“Sure,” Springer says indulgently. “That’s also true.”

First Aid squeaks as Springer starts walking and his entire world starts to sway. Springer walks at a nice, steady pace and it’s honestly hard to stay awake with the pleasant rocking motion. He starts to drift off, but Springer gently shakes him.

“Hey, you have to stay awake so we can get into your room.”

First Aid giggles. “You can come into my room whenever you want.” He pings Springer the access code.

“Oh really? I can?” Springer is laughing and it’s nice to feel reverberating through his entire frame. 

“Yeah! Whenever you want. I read all of Wreckers Declassified. I’ve been wanting to meet you again since Kimia.” First Aid snuggles himself closer with a happy purr of his engine. “I tried to find the messages you ask for.”

“Thank you,” Springer says, sounding more than a little surprised. “Now, here’s your room. Let’s get you tucked in so you can sleep off all that punch.”

First Aid lets himself be carried inside and feels himself be settled on a very familiar berth. A blanket is drawn up over him and careful hands are smoothing it down. 

“There we go. You stay here and go to sleep.”

First Aid makes a disgruntled sound and reaches out to grab Springer’s hand. “Hey wait. Don’t go. You can stay.” He squirms a little to try and make room.

“Thanks, but you are still very drunk. I’m going to let you sleep this off, okay? We’ll talk again when you’re sober.” Springer gently extricates his hand from First Aid’s grip. “Sleep well, First Aid.”

First Aid wants to protest more, but he’s so tired and his berth is so comfortable. He’s asleep before the door closes behind Springer. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, First Aid wakes up with his head pounding and all of his systems aching. A quick scan of himself reveals the already-suspected cause. Right. He got very, very drunk last night. Primus, what was in that punch? Ambulon must have brought him home. He’ll have to thank him later. He sits up slowly and stretches. Luckily medic systems and software are hardy and resilient enough that he can set them to do a defrag and they’ll deal with just about anything that First Aid could reasonably throw at them. After a few good minutes sitting in silence, he feels markedly better. A familiar knock on his door catches his attention and he sits up a little more.

“Hey, Ambulon!” First Aid calls as he pings the door open. It is indeed Ambulon outside. He steps into the room and closes the door behind himself.

“Sitting here in the dark?” Ambulon asks as he flicks the lights on.

“I hadn’t gotten that far,” First Aid says, letting his optics reset for a moment to adjust to the light.

“I just wanted to come check on you.” Ambulon comes over and sits on the edge of First Aid’s bed. “You got pretty drunk last night.”

“Yeah, sorry. Thanks for bringing me home, though. Hope I didn’t ruin your night too much,” First Aid says. He really does feel bad about it. 

“Oh, I didn’t bring you back. Springer carried you home and then came back to the reception.” Ambulon is staring at him in concern.

“Springer carried me home?” First Aid has to really think about last night. Ratchet and Drift’s wedding. Hanging out with Ambulon. The punch. Then he went up and talked to Springer. Danced with Springer. Got carried home by Springer. First Aid buries his face in his hands. “Oh Primus. I was so drunk. I looked like an idiot.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Ambulon says, patting First Aid’s knee. “He didn’t seem upset. Just thought you were funny.”

“I don’t know if that’s better,” First Aid groans. 

“It could have been worse.” Ambulon shrugs, still smiling.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” First Aid asks. “Was I that funny last night?”

Ambulon laughs. “No, not that. Just had a good night, that’s all.”

First Aid squints suspiciously at him, trying to puzzle it out. His optics land on a smudge on Ambulon’s thigh. It’s not unusual for Ambulon’s paint to be chipping or peeling, except that he’d let First Aid carefully repaint him for the wedding with high quality stuff that wouldn’t itch or peel. Plus the smudge isn’t the grey of protometal. It’s purple. First Aid looks Ambulon over. There’s streaks of yellow across his chassis and his other thigh is also smudged purple. First Aid knows this color combination. Ambulon’s smile is slowly becoming a grin. Yellow and purple. Who does First Aid know who’s yellow and purple?

“Ambulon! Did you ‘face Impactor?” First Aid demands.

“I’d probably say that he fragged me, but yeah. It was pretty amazing. Guess what they say about Wreckers is true.” Ambulon’s grin widens.

“I can’t believe it!” First Aid laughs and gently kicks his friend. “Good for you. You needed it.”

“Yeah, I did.” Ambulon swats his foot.

“Are you going to see him again?” First Aid asks.

“I don’t think so. It was a fun night, but I think that was it.” Ambulon really does seem unconcerned and also pleased with the events of the night, so First Aid decides to leave it at that. “Oh, Springer left a message for you with me.” 

“What? Why didn’t you start with that? What did he say?” First Aid leans in eagerly.

“Well, now I don’t know if I remember. Impactor might have distracted me too much.” Ambulon is grinning. First Aid laughs and throws himself at Ambulon.

“Tell me!”

Ambulon laughs and catches him, but First Aid pushes him down to the bed.

“Tell me!”

Ambulon lets First Aid wrestle him for a minute before he pushes First Aid off. “Okay, okay. He said you were cute and wanted your comm code so he could try talk to you when you were sober.”

“Did you give it to him?” First Aid demands.

“You’d never let me hear the end of it if you didn’t. So yes, I did,” Ambulon says.

First Aid might explode with excitement. He’s opening his mouth to reply when he gets a ping from an unfamiliar comm code. “He’s comm-ing me!”

“So answer. I’m going to use your washracks.” Ambulon gestures vaguely at the paint scrapes all over himself.

First Aid waves him off and tentatively acknowledges the ping.

“Hello?”

“Hi, First Aid. I just wanted to check on you.”

It’s Springer’s voice. Springer is actually comm-ing him! While they’re both sober!!

“Thank you. I’m fine. Sorry about last night. I was...really drunk.” First Aid’s entire frame wants to lock up in embarrassment just thinking about it. “Thank you for bringing me home.” 

Springer laughs and First Aid’s spark flops. “I have to say, you were pretty cute. I was hoping you might be up for talking to me again. With less punch this time.”

“Yes! Yes, I would love that!” First Aid says immediately. He can practically hear Springer smiling over the comm.

“Maybe tonight? If you aren’t busy?” Does Springer sound...hopeful? 

“I’m free! Tonight would be perfect!” First Aid knows he sounds too eager, but how can he not?

“Perfect. I’ll meet you at Swerve’s?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” First Aid feels like his face might fall off from smiling. 

“It’s a date. No punch.”

“No punch,” First Aid agrees.

“See you then.” Springer ends the comm call and First Aid sits there for a long moment.

He’s going out with Springer. On a date. Sober.

He runs for the washracks.

“Ambulon! Ambulon! You’ll never guess who I’m meeting tonight!”


End file.
